


A Lucky Man and His Stupid Scarf

by blueboxesandtrafficcones



Series: 31 Days of Ficmas 2017 [29]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, First Time, Fourth Doctor's Scarf, Post Regeneration, Shameless Smut, Swearing, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 01:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13260561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxesandtrafficcones/pseuds/blueboxesandtrafficcones
Summary: After the Doctor's newest regeneration, he and Rose take the time to get to know each other all over again.





	A Lucky Man and His Stupid Scarf

**Author's Note:**

> Day 29 of 31 Days of Ficmas! Word - scarf.
> 
> Let's just say, if scarves could blush...

Having dropped Clara off at home, the Doctor walked back into the TARDIS with a sigh.  Between regenerating and diving right into trouble with the clockwork droids, he was exhausted.

Undoing the bowtie and wondering how he could have ever thought the look deserved the light of day, the Doctor made his way towards his bedroom, stripping as he went.  By the time he pushed open the door, he was down to his pants.

He took one step inside only to stop and stare.

“Was wondering where you’d gotten to.  Clara wanted to say goodbye,” he told Rose, stalking towards where she lay draped across their bed.

“I was putting the Victorian clothes away, felt us land.  Thought you might want a minute alone,” she offered, eyes trailing appreciatively over his bare skin.

“Well, it’s just us now,” he said, and she shivered in delight at the Scottish accent.

“Good.”  She sat up on her knees, hands playing with the tie of her robe.

“So, what do you think?”  He did a slow spin, praying she’d still want him; he was more than aware that it was quite the departure from the bodies she’d known previously.

“Well, on first viewing, I think I like it,” she teased, crooking her finger at him to draw him closer.  “I’ll need to take it for a spin though, do some tests.”

“Well, as long as you’re thorough,” he joked, stepping into her arms.  Despite his claims to Clara not ten minutes before, he found his new aversion to hugging did not extend to his wife.

“So, do you know what your new look is going to be?”  Rose asked, voice muffled on his shoulder.

“Don’t know – new set of regenerations.  Could be anything.  There’s plenty of awful outfits in my history.”

“You mean like… this scarf?”  Rose asked innocently, drawing back and undoing the dressing gown, letting it fall off her shoulders to reveal she wore his fourth body’s monstrous scarf – and nothing else.

“Yeah.”  His mouth suddenly dry, he perused the bare expanse of skin, drinking her in as if for the first time; which in reality it was, for these eyes.  “Hang on.”  His gaze snapped up to meet hers.  “Are you making fun of my scarf?”

“Maybe I am,” she simpered.  “Are you going to punish me for it?”

“I think I might,” he said, his offense not entirely faked.

“Sure you’re up to it?”

“I think you’ll find I am,” he told her, grabbing her hand and bringing it to the front of his pants where she could feel him stirring to life.

“I’m very sorry if I offended your scarf,” she said in that same syrupy sweet tone.  “How would you like me to make it up to you?”

He looked at her for long moments, taking in how she knelt before him naked but for the scarf strategically hiding the good bits.  It was certainly giving him ideas.

“Lie back, near the headboard,” he instructed, crawling onto the mattress as she obeyed.  “Excellent.  Hold on to it?”

When her hands were firmly wrapped around the slats, he unwound the scarf from her neck before using it to secure her hands.

“Really?  You wanna tie me up?”  Amusement bled into her tone as she tested the restraints.

“Well, you are being punished,” He considered.  “Maybe I should turn you over, give you a few spanks?”

The rush of pheromones flooding the air said she was more than agreeable.

“If you want,” she tried to regulate her tone despite knowing he knew how aroused she was.  She took slow, deep breaths that made her chest heave, and he watched the movement like a hawk.

“Maybe later,” he decided, settling cross-legged next to her hips, perpendicular to reach most of her body.  “What to do with you now, though,” he wondered, running his fingers through the fringe on one end of the scarf.  Like a bolt of lightning inspiration struck, and he grinned wickedly.

“Decided then?”  Rose could feel herself getting wetter, which eased her mind.  She’d long since promised him she’d love each body he’d have; it was a relief to know that while she did love it because it was him, she also desired it.  And she had to admit – he was kinda foxy.

“Aye,” he rumbled, eyes twinkling.

“Shouldn’t I have you tied up?  After all, you’re the one with the new body; I can’t wait to explore it.”

“Once I’m done with you,” he promised, before bringing the scarf’s fringe down to tickle the ends across her stomach.

“Ah!”  Rose gasped, muscles contracting at the sensation.

The Doctor smirked at her reaction, committing to his plan with relish.  He lightly brushed it along her belly, thighs, and arms for countless minutes, until Rose was panting and wriggling beneath him, the smell of her heavy in the air.

“Doctor, please!”  She begged, angling her hips towards him.

“Please what, love?”  He leaned down to trail kisses everywhere but where she wanted him.

“More; doesn’t matter what.  Just, please.”

He hummed as though debating it, before he brought his other hand down to trace around a nipple without touching it.  “Like this?”

“Bastard,” she panted, making him laugh.

“Better?”  He lightly tugged and squeezed the nipple, making it fully erect before doing the same to the other, all the while teasing her with the scarf.

After a millennia together he could tell when she was becoming overly-frustrated and took pity on her, abandoning the scarf to move that hand down between her thighs to rub at her.  He strained against his pants when he felt how wet she was; two fingers slid against her before easing inside.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Rose began to chant, riding his hand.  The Doctor knew it wouldn’t take her long and played her expertly until she broke, crying out his true name.

“Oh, fuck,” she panted harshly as he worked her down until she was relaxed against the pillows.  Bringing his hand to his mouth, he absently licked his fingers clean before pausing to register the flavor against his new taste buds.

He quickly freed her from the scarf, bundling it up and tossing it away before lying beside her.

“How’d you even find that anyway?  Or know what it was?” he asked curiously.

Rolling her head towards his voice, she slowly opened her eyes to look at him, pleased when she didn’t flinch at his new face.

“TARDIS had it sitting out.  Plus, Sarah Jane’d described it for me once,” she replied, reaching out a hand to lazily stroke his forearm.

“She shouldn’t have done that,” he complained, turning on his side to face her, propping his head on his hand.

“The TARDIS or Sarah?”

The Doctor considered for only a moment before deciding, “Both.”

Rose snorted a laugh, before they fell into companionable silence.

“How are you doing?”  He asked eventually.

“All right.  I’m going to make you pay though, you can bet on it.”

“No, I meant – with this.”  He gestured to his face, and her teasing look fell to a more neutral expression.

“I’m doing okay,” she said truthfully.  “You had me worried there; that’s the worst post-regeneration sickness I’ve seen you have.”

“Right, but, what about the body itself?  The face?”

She rolled onto her side to face him, one hand moving to trace his features.  “It’s different.  Not good or bad, just different.  I liked your face, and the one before that, and the one before that.  But I like this one too.”  She shrugged.  “You’re the Doctor; the casing doesn’t matter.”

“But it does,” he argued softly.  “You’re the one who’s got to look at this face much more than I do.”

“I like it,” Rose admitted, blushing.  “I like the older look – more distinguished.  You don’t look like you’re trying to hide anymore.”

“I don’t have to hide with you.”

“No, you don’t.”  She agreed softly, before turning mischievous.  “So don’t you think it’s time you lost the pants?  You’re starting to make me think it’s not impressive,” she teased, reaching down to snap the elastic against his waist.

“I am impressive!”  He protested.  “And I thought you’d never ask.”  It took some wiggling around, but he managed to pull the boxers down his hips with her help.

Finally, though, he was bare before her, and she moved to sit on his thighs as she inspected him.

“Well?”  He demanded when she’d been silent for too long, a neutral expression on her face.

“Yeah, this’ll do I think,” Rose finally muttered, reaching out to trace him with a fingertip, watching as he twitched at the touch.

“Yeah?”

“I mean I need to run a fully battery of tests, but it certainly passes with flying colors so far,” she made a fist, giving a few experimental pumps that made him throw his head back and moan.

“Good,” he panted, quickly getting lost in the pleasure.

Experimenting with speed and the tightness of her fist, Rose evaluated his reactions, trying to find the right combination for this body.  Leaning down, she cautiously licked the head of him, relieved that it still tasted basically the same.  The touch of her tongue drew a ragged moan from him, encouraging her to ease him fully into her mouth.

As soon as her lips closed around him, he began to mutter.  It took a few moments for her to understand, but she blinked in surprise at the steady stream of rough, inventive curses tumbling out of his mouth.  Sitting up, she stared at him until he opened his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he grumped, frowning at her.

“You’ve gone extremely native,” she informed him, lips twitching in amusement.

“Oh.”  He stared back.  “Problem?”

“No, just funny.”  Rose shrugged, idly stroking him.

“Any particular reason you’ve not started again?”  He asked after a minute, looking pointedly from her mouth to his cock.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered as she leaned over him again.  “And your stupid scarf.”

He really was, and he knew it.


End file.
